


The Breath, Smiles, Tears of All My Life

by LateStarter58



Series: Love and Resistance: The Tom and Jess Story [4]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Grief, Terminal Illnesses, bereavement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 18:01:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16938045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateStarter58/pseuds/LateStarter58
Summary: … I love thee with the breath,Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,I shall but love thee better after death.From ‘Sonnet 43’, Elizabeth Barratt Browning





	1. The Breath...

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to No Resistance and The Long and Winding Road. You can read what follows without having read these, but they do provide a little more context, of course.   
> I have been writing about Jess for the longest, of all my OFCs; she was my first. In many ways she is an AU, idealised me. She lives in my house, she likes the things – and loves the people - I do. So when you have read this, you will see why this final part of her story has been such a trial for me to write. Non-writers may scoff – how can I say that, when it all comes from my own imagination? Surely I chose the course of the story? But I didn’t, not consciously. It was revealed to me, I was steered to it… and it has been painful. Very, very painful. I must thank my dearest friend and beta for holding me while I did this awful thing and for crying with me. Bless you, my darling.
> 
> This is a story about loss, death and all that goes with it: there will be tears. Please, don't read it if you find those things too hard to deal with.

Jess felt the car slow down and take a turning to the right.  Drowsy and heavy-headed, she lifted her eyelids a crack and recognised the landscape: it was the road home, back to St Pierre and her - _their_ little house. They continued along the narrow country lane. There on the right was that place with the trees and the big furry dog that always barked when you passed; there, further along on the left was the SUV parked as usual next to the tiny house with the huge garden office; up ahead, she could see the copse of dead and dying trees, the rookery and the small chateau with its single turret. They were just seconds away now…

_Almost home._

_Except that I am already there. My home, all I ever needed is beside me in the car. My world is him._

_My man._

_My Tom._

_My husband._

Her eyes closed again slowly as she let herself fall back into the soft enveloping comfort of unconsciousness.

Tom did not have that luxury. He sat beside her, his arms holding her delicate frame against him, his eyes staring straight ahead. He saw neither the road nor the village they were approaching. His brain could not take in the houses, the dog, the trees or the fields. All he could see was blackness.

_How can this be the first day of our honeymoon? How can this be happening?_

***********

 

Jess’ phone vibrated for the hundredth time since breakfast. She glanced at it: another unknown number. _Probably a journalist._ She was sick of it already. Standing up from the desk she negotiated the boxes and the piles of papers and books littering the floor, crossing the rug to the study doorway. It was inevitable, she accepted that. Tom had been at the centre of a tornado of media excitement since the news of his marriage breakdown became public. It reached fever pitch when some kind soul had tweeted a picture of the two of them eating dinner at what Jess had believed to be a safely obscure restaurant half an hour from her home. _‘Back together!’_ screamed the headlines on the internet. _‘Loki actor reunited with woman who broke his heart’…_

She kept her head down and carried on through it all, doing her best to ignore it. She flew over to London to house-hunt with Tom, dodged the paparazzi who besieged her hotel briefly (happily their reunion was only a nine-day wonder) and now she was trying to work a little between unpacking and settling into the home they had chosen together. But there remained a steady trickle of press interest and the requests for quotes and interviews kept coming relentlessly.

On her way to make coffee she inspected the open and sunny sitting room. That space was mostly ready for the visit, thank goodness. Safety covers in the open electric sockets, cables tidied away, no sharp corners. Tom had some meetings in town this morning, but just before lunch he was driving out to Berkshire to collect his son for a short stay. She smiled at the thought, her head turning unconsciously towards the bedroom Tom had prepared for James, and beyond it to the one he was working on for the new baby when she was born. It made her heart swell to see how much he loved his son: it was a validation of her past actions. It almost compensated for all the pain.

Waiting for the coffee to brew she checked the fridge, freezer and cupboards for the umpteenth time to be sure they had the right provisions for little James. She had telephoned the woman who was still, legally–speaking, Tom’s wife – Sophie - a few days ago. It was harder than she imagined. Now that they had a proper home, it was time to start the sleepovers and Jess felt she had to talk to James’ mother. She was a grown-up, a parent herself. If anything, out of respect for Sophie, Jess felt she had to be the one to make the gesture; to call her and, somehow, establish the first contact. She had thought she was fine and at ease dialling the number Tom had given her but when she heard the voice on the other end, she froze.

Sophie and James – and the little girl she was expecting – were the innocent victims in all this. She felt a vice tighten around her heart whenever she thought about them. Jess didn’t know Sophie at all. She hadn’t exactly been avoiding it, but so far, although she and Tom had been back together for over four months, the two women had never met. Jess had already fallen in love with James when he had spent time with his father. The three of them had been to the beach up in Suffolk, to London Zoo and the park, or just walking and running around in the countryside. He was a sweet, bright and funny, slightly mischievous little chap – Diana told Jess he was just like Tom at the same age.

‘Hello? Who is this?’

Sophie’s voice snapped Jess out of her trance.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, it’s Jess Hancock here.’

‘Oh, hello.’

_Not exactly thrilled to hear from me. I don’t blame you._

It had been a polite conversation after that slightly faltering start. Sophie was civilised and controlled – of course. Tom wouldn’t have married anyone nasty or vindictive, but it can’t have been easy for her to take the call. When she put the phone down after several minutes Jess felt oddly unsettled. It took her a couple of hours to work out what was bothering her. She had expected – _no, that wasn’t quite right_ – she had _wanted_ to be berated. She had wanted Sophie to punish her. She felt so guilty about forcing Tom into marrying someone else and having a family too quickly, and about the damage she had done indirectly to Sophie. The joy of being with Tom again had been tempered by that feeling: that she had ruined possibly three people’s lives.

And she wasn’t sure she deserved the happiness of being with him, even now.

Tom had been tense at breakfast, and she had put it mainly down to nervousness about the child coming to the house for the first time, but she knew there was more to it. She felt it sometimes when they lay together: the merest stiffening in his muscles; or when they were eating a meal or reading quietly: a worrisome look in his eye as he watched her. It was painful to her but she felt it was merited.

She had hurt Tom very badly. Jess knew that. She had left him, albeit for the best of reasons. She had walked away. But the way in which she did it had damaged the trust between them. When she chose to leave she had allowed no discussion of her decision, even used a degree of deception and secrecy. She left him without options: he told her those things had been almost as painful to him as her leaving. He said he had forgiven her; they loved each other as much as ever, but she understood that she had some way to go before things would be fixed completely – if, as the little voice in her head said, they ever could be.

Jess managed another ninety minutes of work before she heard Tom’s horn beep as they arrived. She shut down her laptop and was half-way across the living room when she heard a little voice shouting ‘Jessiejess!’ and there he was, coming through the doorway.

_Cherub_

James ran across the floor and wrapped his arms around Jess’ legs before she had a chance to lean down.

_Well, I’m doing something right._

She picked up James and rested him on her hip, with a big squeezing hug that the boy adored. ‘Would you like a sandwich or something, darling? What about Daddy?’

Tom put his arm around her and kissed her temple softly.

‘That would be lovely, _Jessiejess_ ,’ he said, smiling.

‘ZoozoozoozooZOOOOO!’

She looked at Tom; he smiled lopsidedly. ‘I may have promised…’ he shrugged. ‘It’s his favourite.’

‘Alright, yes, I suppose we can go to the zoo - _again_.’ She smiled indulgently at the two men in her life, who were on their hands and knees pulling out the box of new Lego from the bottom of the wall cupboards. She understood that Tom felt he had to spoil James a little, until the dust settled and they all got used to the new living arrangements. So she stood patiently that afternoon as father and son stared, delightedly horror-struck as they watched the keeper feed rats to the big snakes, and counted the teeth in the alligators’ mouths. The reptile house – ‘the _bestest_ thing, Daddy!’ – was humid and crowded, but nonetheless they stayed for over an hour.

 

                                    _____________________________________

 

The sound of tyres on gravel stirred Jess from her stupor after what seemed to her like hours, but could only have been a few seconds. Her eyes opened and she saw the blue cloud of blossom on the ceanothus bush by the front door, garlanded with the pale pink of the clematis montana. She smiled.

_Home_

She drifted again and was barely aware of Tom lifting her out of the car and carrying her indoors to the bed that had been prepared in her beloved library. The light was soft, no sounds, no scents, no noticeable temperature. It felt as if the world had paused itself to give them a moment of their own, time they did not have. Struggling to contain his emotions, he gently removed her outer garments. Surrendering all rational thoughts to his despair, he thought he saw the body he was born to love, not the fragile Jess he had in his arms. Arduously, he managed to control the need to hold her against him and pulled the covers over her. Finally he leaned in and kissed her cracked dry lips softly, then brought his mouth to her ear.

‘You’re home, my darling Jess. We’re home.’

 

                                    _______________________________________

 

‘Madame? Ça va?’

Jess nodded. Talking took too much out of her to waste it on anyone but Tom. Her eyes fixed on the view outside the window in front of her. It was sunny again this morning, but windy; the breeze was blowing the branches of the big conifer tree around and ruffling the foliage on the viburnum bush next to the house. That was all she could see, so she moved her eyes around the room, taking in the crowded bookshelves and the bustling round frame of Clothilde, this morning’s _infermière._ The nurse was folding towels and gathering up toiletries. Jess hated the inevitable indignity of it, but having this help was the only way they could be here.

And she _needed_ to be _here_.

Her eyelids felt like lead and she almost dozed off again, but perked up when she heard Tom’s voice outside the door. She could guess, from the words she just about made out, that he was probably speaking to Faisal or one of the men he had brought with him. They needed some security. Her modest house was no safer from prying eyes and uninvited guests than it had been when she abandoned it eight years ago for her first, short-lived stay in London. Tom had agreed that they should come to St Pierre _only_ if there were some ‘people to take care of things’.

Jess didn’t mind. Most of the time they were outside, as the weather so far had been warm and dry, and they were, in any case, extremely professional and discreet. If anything, she wished she could step outside with them for a cup of coffee and a pleasant, inconsequential, relaxing chat. Do what people do, live a normal life. 

Three days after their arrival, her life back here had begun to take on its own, comfortable rhythm. Three shifts of private nurses, Tom cooking for everyone but Jess (she had to have a special liquid diet that the _infermières_ prepared for her), mornings of music or videos, afternoons and evenings of him reading to her, or them just lying together on the hospital bed in the new master suite, as he called it. So far, Tom had not so much as creased the sheets on the bed in what had been their bedroom. He slept beside Jess or dozed in the armchair nearby. Once or twice a day, weather and Jess’ degree of wakefulness permitting, he would carry her outside to sit on the terrace for a while, coddled in a blanket. He would lie on the wide chaise-lounge, taking her with him onto his lap, wrapping himself all around her.

He could not leave her for more than short periods. The few years they had been together were not enough.

_Too fast. Not fair._

‘T’a finit, Clothilde?’

His voice still thrilled her the way it had that first morning in London. Something about the timbre of it resonated though her body, as if only he could match the individual, imperceptible vibration of her soul. In that moment, she felt she could get up and run to him.

‘Ouais, M’sieur. À tout à l’heure.’

Tom waited until the nurse closed the door on her way out, then he slid onto the bed next to his wife, nuzzling her hair as he made himself comfortable.

‘You smell delicious.’ His lips wafted over her ear and onto her neck. Jess shivered.

_I will never tire of that._

‘Thanks.’ She chuckled softly. ‘I’m becoming so _lazy_! A woman could get used to this - being washed like Cleopatra, then handed over, clean and fragrant, to Mark Anthony.’

Tom smiledand kissed her. He felt her getting lost in the kiss but scanned her face for the tiniest signs of pain. That was the worst for him: seeing her in agony. He could not stand it. Just before they left London she had her second coeliac plexus block, to help with her pain. It had worked wonderfully so far, but the anaesthetist who performed it had warned them that it could only be temporary. 

The words of her oncologist werelingering in the back of his consciousness: ‘I’m so very sorry Mr Hiddleston, but this will be, most likely, the last one she will need.’

*************

‘Mummy Jess??!!’

‘Yes James, dear? What is it?’ she called to him through the study door. She was trying to work but really she had written off this week: the children were lovely – most of the time – but a massive distraction, even with the nanny there.

‘Neenoo’s pooped her nappy!’

Jess had to laugh. Poor Nina had no secret her big brother didn’t feel the need to share with the world. She got to her feet, glad to change position and relieve the nagging ache in her back. She stretched painfully.

_This getting old lark, it’s not for softies_

James was standing in the hallway, in his favourite position just where it opened out into the living room. From there he could keep tabs on Jess at her desk at the far end of the corridor and also see his sister and Maria the nanny. There was a small pile of Lego and toy cars at his feet. She heard Maria call to the four-year-old.

‘I’m just taking Nina to change her, OK James? You stay right there, or go see Mummy Jess, alright sweetheart?’

‘It’s alright Maria, I’m coming!’

‘Thanks, Doctor Hancock. We’ll just be a minute.’ The young woman walked towards the nursery with the baby on her hip. Nina waved cheerily at Jess over her shoulder, her smiling apple-cheeked face surrounded by a halo of blonde curls. She looked like a Botticelli angel. A very noisy, occasionally smelly one.

Sitting down on the nearest sofa, she beckoned to her stepson to join her, which he did, climbing up and shuffling his bottom on the seat until he was next to Jess. ‘So, James, what shall we do after lunch?’ She braced herself: that question always elicited the same answer.

‘Zoo! Zoozoozoozooozooooooo!!!!’

She smiled wearily. As Maria was there, she couldn’t think of a good reason to say no. They could walk it easily enough, the weather was good, but once there, the site was _so_ big… and she was exhausted. Tom gone, the kids to look after, she had felt so tired when she woke that she started to reconsider Tom’s idea of a week at a mountain spa, despite her rejecting it originally as a ‘Cocoon vacation’ she was not interested in. She wasn’t young, but should a fit woman in her mid-fifties get _this_ tired?

‘That sounds lovely, James. We’ll have lots to tell Daddy when he gets home tomorrow, won’t we?’

As usual, most of the trip to Regent’s Park was spent looking at the scalier inhabitants. Recently James had begun to lobby hard for a pet snake. Jess didn’t doubt that he would get his way with one or both parents eventually – he was as stubborn and determined as his father. And, to be fair, he had been crazy about lizards, snakes and dinosaurs for as long as Jess had known him. He could read pretty well already, and he had done the research. You name it, he could tell you - everything about the more common species people kept at home.

Yes, it was only a matter of time before their dog Jojo would have a new, wriggly little friend, she was sure.

The next afternoon Tom returned from his brief trip to Germany, looking ridiculously fresh and unruffled. The children fell on him and he played with them until bedtime, so it wasn’t until later in the evening that he was able to talk properly to Jess. He had noticed immediately that she seemed excessively tired and pale; not seeing her for a few days made it clearer to him. . He pressed his body against hers, wrapped his arms around her, and felt she had lost weight.

‘I’m fine. Just a bit whacked. And my back is still playing up. Those kids of yours wear me out. See? I was right. I’m way too old for this shit.’

‘Nonsense.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘So, will you reconsider that spa trip? I’m still free that week in August. We could go to Baden-Baden, or maybe Vichy? Somewhere in the hills, that’s what I fancy.’

She grinned. ‘Actually, I checked out a place in Italy on the net last night. Near Padua: Abano Terme… There’s a suite still available, for _that_ week…’

***********

The peace and quiet of the house was only lightly affected by the arrival of Jess’ daughter Sally. She had come alone, but her partner Pietro would be following in a few days. The couple were both nurses, and Sally immediately wanted to help with caring for her mother, but Jess was having none of it.

‘No. We’ve hired these people for that. I want you to be my _daughter_ , spend time with me and Tom, that’s all. _Not_ working.’

Sally acquiesced reluctantly, but nonetheless she hovered, checking and monitoring. Unable to find fault, and impressed by Tom’s thoughtful thoroughness, she took to the kitchen, thus freeing him to spend the maximum possible time in the library. Not allowed to care directly for her mother, she looked after Tom instead: making sure he did not neglect his own health, both physical and mental. She forced him to join her on her daily runs and took him for walks in the evenings after Jess had fallen asleep. After a few days, when they were alone and away from the house, she persuaded him to talk to her about how he was feeling, and she soon discovered just what an accomplished actor her stepfather was. He was jolly, joking and tender with Jess. He kissed her, hugged her, he held her hand and smiled and sang her songs and read her poetry.

But inside he was struggling, and when he finally began to talk to Sally one thing became abundantly clear: he was not coping, despite appearances. Not at all.

They sat together by Jess’ beloved little lake – barely more than a pond, really. It had a peace about it, and they let it wash over them for a few minutes in the afternoon heat. Sally took Tom’s hand in hers, squeezing it lightly as he began to speak.

‘It’s all too hard, Sal. Too. Fucking. Hard.’ He looked up at the sky. ‘You know your mum. She’s always so calm, so practical. But I’m not.’ He grimaced, shaking his head. ‘I can’t stand it. I don’t want to accept it. I don’t want to be practical about it. I just want things to be back to normal, to our plans. I want to know she will be there tomorrow, next year, in twenty years. I don’t know how much longer I can go on. Being brave, I mean.’ He looked at her; his face made her weep. She had never seen such pain.

‘I want to run away and hide… _all the time._ ’ He let out a great, soul-deep sigh. ‘If I did…if I don’t see her, have to see how she is fading away, then it won’t be tr-’

Wracking sobs overtook him and Sally held on tight. She could only guess at his agony, but she knew her own well enough. It was no comfort at all to know that it would soon be over.


	2. Smiles...

‘I’m not getting in it. I’d rather not go anywhere if you’re going to make me use it.’

‘ _Mu-uuum_ ,’ said Anna, exasperated. Jess’ older daughter had arrived that day, and was hoping to succeed where Tom and her sister had failed and persuade her mother to leave the house with the aid of a wheelchair.

‘Don’t, Anna. I’d like to go out, but I won’t use that - _thing_.’

Tom ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. He had a lovely surprise planned and all that was needed was for his wife to agree to get in the car. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll carry you! Will that be acceptable?’

_Thank god. He’s angry with me. Something normal._

Jess smiled sweetly. ‘It would be more than acceptable, darling.’

Her eyes rolled shut, as they did so often now, so she missed the look exchanged by her husband and her daughter.

An hour later, the big seven-seat minivan driven by Faisal and which contained Jess, Tom, Anna and her husband Pete, Sally and Pietro (who had travelled over with Anna) drew up in the car park across the road from the old town at Sainte Suzanne. Two other security guys parked next to them in another car. Jess had dozed all the way with her head on Tom’s shoulder. It took her a few moments to recognise where they were. As Tom lifted her out of the car she smiled broadly and kissed him on the cheek.

‘Oh darling,’ she whispered, ‘ _our_ chateau… But it’s much too far for you to carry me from here!’

He smiled, trying to hide the tears which were choking him.

‘Good thing we packed this then, Mum.’ Anna’s triumphant voice came from behind her. Pete was unfolding the wheelchair by the kerb.

‘God, you’ve changed,’ her mother said in a disappointed tone. ‘I could always trust you, but lately… And don’t think I’m letting you off ‘cos you’re pregnant, either!’ She shook her head sadly. ‘OK, I give in.’

Tom lowered her gently into the seat. ‘Just as far as the entrance. I’ll carry you onto the battlements.’

‘You’d better! Romantic fool.’

They took no photographs that day. Any contrast with the ones taken seven or so years before would have been too awful. So they sat and just looked at the scenery, Jess wrapped in a coat and blankets despite the warm sunshine. The castle at Ste Suzanne has a high vantage point, with stunning views in every direction. Once an almost impenetrable fortress, it was a major target, changing hands a few times in the Hundred Years War, and the ‘real’ John Falstaff became commander there when the English managed to capture it. Now a latter-day incarnation of his protégé Prince Hal gazed out from its high walls, his beloved queen in his arms.

Tom was beginning to think that coming might have been a mistake. Jess seemed to be loving it, but he felt terrible. He remembered the sunny autumn day they did the photoshoot for _Elle_ vividly.  It was at the height of their happiness, before Jess decided she had to leave him; before, in the depths of his grief, he had plunged into an unwise marriage with someone he could never love enough; before, before…

A gang of swifts came screaming around the corner, skimming the high walls and stiffly flapping their sickle-shaped wings as they passed.

_The sound of summer. How many summers have I lived, must I live without her?_

He listened to Jess breathing, the wheezing slow and steady, telling him she had drifted off to sleep yet again. He kissed her hair, inhaled her scent. A sharp movement caught his eye and he spotted a peregrine falcon swooping down, chasing some poor songbird.

_This is a special place;_ _another thing I need to say goodbye to.I shall never come here again._

 

*************

 

‘Darling, what’s wrong with your eyes?’ ’He was still on top of her, cupping her face gently with both his hands. Their breath was mingling, hearts beating in synch as their pulses slowed down.

Jess laughed. ‘What do you mean?’

‘They look a bit of a funny colour.’

‘Because you have been kissing me breathless and stealing all the oxygen from the room, as usual. You are a murderous, irresistible monster.’

Tom laughed mechanically: his face remained strained.

She reached for the hand mirror on the table beside her and peered at her reflection. Tom was right; there was a slight yellow tinge to the whites of her eyes. She frowned.

_What on earth could that be? Looks like jaundice… Hepatitis? Gall stones, maybe?_

Her first action, after making tea, was to do what she always did whenever she had a health concern: message her daughter, the GP.

**_< Appt NOW mum. Could be a hundred things. All need treatment>_ **

Dr Ahmad was calm and comforting. ‘Given your age and your symptoms,’ he said - Jess had been suffering from intermittent indigestion and back pain for a few months, ‘I’d say it’s almost certainly gall stones.’ He turned and tapped his keyboard. ‘I can refer you to the Royal Free, but if you’d prefer something quicker…?’

Against all her principles and mainly to calm Tom’s anxiety, she agreed to have a private consultation with a gastro-intestinal specialist and a CT scan. Within a week she had been referred on to an oncologist and only a few days later, after numerous blood tests, an MRI and a biopsy (a highly unpleasant experience) she and Tom sat together holding hands in his office as the doctor delivered the worst possible news. The situation felt surreally at odds with the elegant setting. Jess guessed it wasn’t going to be good as she watched the slight dark-haired man composing himself.

‘I am terribly sorry to have to tell you this, Doctor Hancock, but our tests show that you have an advanced cancerous tumour in your pancreas.’

Jess felt Tom’s hand tighten painfully around hers as his breath caught in his throat.

‘Adenocarcinoma of the pancreas, to be precise. And it has already progressed to stage four. So I am afraid that surgery would serve no purpose.’

Jess nodded. Right, she had cancer. She had been expecting something like this, given the nature and number of the tests they had been doing. And she had some idea of the implications of this particular diagnosis. Tom clearly did not.

‘OK, so… what are our options?’ he asked, straightening up in his chair. ‘Radiotherapy? Chemo?’

The doctor looked at him steadily, then glanced at Jess. She was looking at her hands and crying silently. She knew what he was going to say next.

‘I am afraid that pancreatic cancer is one of the few left which can truly be described as ‘incurable’. If we had seen Jess a year or more ago, we might have been able to operate and give her a few more years, but the truth is that all we can offer is palliative treatment. Symptom control, nothing more.’

Jess raised her eyes. ‘Prognosis? How long…?’

The oncologist sighed. In most of the cases he saw, there was no real way to say, but with this particular cancer, the statistics were stark and unambiguous… ‘Eight to twelve months.’ Tom let out a moan like a wounded animal. ‘I am so _very_ sorry…’

Tom stood up, his face as white as a sheet. ‘What are you saying? She’s going to _die_ in less than a year?’ His voice was very quiet, in exact contrast to the screaming inside his head. A hand reached for his and caught it.

‘It’s alright Tom, darling. I’d rather know.’

Dr Gonzales nodded sadly. ‘I apologise for appearing to be brutal, but I don’t believe in deceiving patients. We could try some chemotherapy to slow the growth of the tumour, perhaps buy you a little time. But in all honesty the side-effects don’t make the tiny chance of success worth the unpleasantness. I would not recommend it. You might gain another month, no more. And the price in suffering would be too high.’ He paused, sympathising with Tom who was staring unfocused at the window. ‘And it wouldn’t change the final outcome. Mr Hiddleston, you need to understand that there is always hope, however slim, but I am sorry that currently, there simply is no treatment for what your girlfriend is suffering from.’

Jess thanked him when he said he would be popping out for a few minutes. It was just an excuse to leave them alone, but she was grateful. She had been researching and had tagged this as possibly matching her symptoms. And she knew also from her reading that there was no cure as yet. She was devastated, but felt oddly calm. It had happened, that could not be changed. She had cancer and it was going to kill her within a year. So she turned her attention to something she could do: help Tom to come to terms with the news.

She got up from her chair and walked over to him as he stood stiffly, his head leaning on the cold pane of the sash window. His eyes were glassy: he looked like someone who had been drugged, or perhaps stunned by a blow – which is exactly what had happened.

A barely audible murmur was coming from his lips. ‘Nononononono…’

‘Shhhh, Tom. It’s OK, darling, I’m fine for now. Please, look at me.’

She tugged gently on his shoulder and after a moment’s resistance he turned and let her cup his face in her hands.

‘Look at it this way. We know, so we can prepare. Better that than some horrible sudden death like my Dad’s, hey?’ She was speaking to him patiently; softly but firmly as she would to his son. She used the voice she did to her daughters when they were young. ‘Now, please, take me home, my love.’

‘No.’

‘Tom, I under-‘

‘No!’ He turned swiftly, almost knocking into her. She stared: his eyes were blazing with anger. ‘No, you don’t get to do this again! You don’t get to decide what happens without me! You don’t choose for me, not again.’

‘I’m so sorry, my love, I just-‘

‘No.’ His voice was lower, calmer, but firm. ‘I am not your child to be comforted. This is not fair and I have the right to be angry.’ His chest was heaving with the effort of keeping control.

She looked into his eyes and saw the pain; the despair. That was all she had wanted to do: to save him from that. But she couldn’t protect him from it and he was right. So she did the next best thing: she held him as they both cried. They remained like that, life continuing regardless in the busy London street below them, for several minutes until Dr Gonzales tapped softly on the door. Somehow, together, they found the strength to leave that terrible room.

Jess’ daughters did not cope well with the news. Being a doctor and a nurse, they both knew the implications without her having to tell them all of what the oncologist had said. Both blamed themselves for not spotting it sooner, as if they had x-ray vision or something. She wept through a long, agonizing phone call from her ex-husband, with whom she was still on friendly terms. Chris had just lost his second parent to cancer in three years, so her news had devastated the family. By the end of that shattering week, Jess was exhausted from comforting other people to the point where she felt she had nothing left for herself.

At first, Tom would not accept that there was no real hope at all. He spent hours on the net searching for drug trials and experimental treatments, but there were none. He even began to look into alternative therapies until Jess closed him down.

‘No. I won’t give a penny to those snake-oil peddlers and neither will you.’ She stroked his hair as he sat at the laptop and wrapped her arms around him as he covered his face with his hands. ‘Please Tom, listen to what _I_ want, will you?’ He turned the chair and she sat on his lap. He could feel she was lighter, more fragile. ‘I am lucky in a way. I know, so I can plan and spend the time I have doing the things I want to. I have some ideas I’d like to talk through with you. Will you listen and help me make my plans?’

He nodded, but he dare not speak. Jess squeezed him a little harder and he buried his face in her bosom. He knew she was right, but his instinct was always to battle, to keep on doggedly trudging forwards until you reach your goal. But this was one fight he knew, deep down, they could not win.

 

*****************

 

‘Mummeeejessjess!’

‘Shhh Neenoo, she’s asleep!’

James’ stage whisper was barely quieter than his toddler sister’s shout, and anyway, Jess was actually awake for once. She had heard the commotion of their arrival and was startled and not a little moved to hear Sophie’s voice among the cacophony. The children were supposed to be travelling over with Tom’s mother, but apparently his ex-wife had decided to come along too.

She turned her head as two little faces appeared around the door. Nina was smiling as ever but James looked uneasy. She knew that Tom and Sophie had been speaking to him about her illness, trying to prepare him for what was to come, and she could see his anxiety.

_Oh the bloody irony of this all. This was what I feared. This is why I said no to more children, even with him, yet here I am, dying…_

‘Come here darlings!’ She held out her arms to them both. ‘Come and give me a cuddle.’

Tom was hard on their heels and he scooped Nina up to place her gently down next to Jess.

‘Pop around the other side, James.’ He nodded encouragingly to his son, who skirted the bed and climbed carefully up to embrace his step-mum cautiously. Kisses were exchanged. The children snuggled against her and Jess closed her eyes, breathing them in. They were beautiful, sweet and normal. Happy. Not damaged by the divorce, no trauma.They were joyful children, with three loving parents.  She loved them so much; she would miss so much of their lives…

‘Hello Jess.’

Sophie’s sweet voice came from the doorway. Tom gestured to the chair and his ex-wife sat down while he picked up their daughter and carried her out to spend some time with her brother and stepsisters in the garden.

‘Thank you so much for bringing them, Sophie. I’m very grateful.’

‘They both love you, Jess. _A great deal_. You’ve been a wonderful stepmother to them.’

Jess looked at Sophie. She was tall and slim, with long dark hair and a very beautiful face: everything she would have expected Tom to look for in a wife. More than that, over the past few years, as she got to know her a little, Jess had learned she was a good, kind and patient mother as well as a funny and clever person who was, she suspected, still a little in love with Tom.

‘And you have been much kinder to me than I deserve, Sophie.’ The other woman shook her head. ‘Yes you have.’ Jess took a deep breath. She hadn’t had the opportunity to say these things, and she didn’t want to leave without doing so.

‘When I left Tom… When I told him to find someone else to love and have the children he deserved, well, I thought he would forget me soon enough. We hadn’t been together long and I assumed that he was young enough to move on.’

Sophie opened her mouth to respond.

‘Please, let me just get through this.’ Jess was near to crying, and finding the words hard to get out. Her throat seemed to be closing. ‘I did him an injustice, but I did an even greater one to you, Sophie. I am so very sorry.’ She took a calming draught of air: she was nearly finished. ‘I never gave a moment’s thought to the person he would marry. I never considered how you might be hurt by what I did. How the children might be hurt. I don’t ask for forgiveness, but I want you to know that I am truly sorry.’

Tears flowed freely now, and she groped for the tissue-box. Sophie stood up quickly and handed it to her, then sat on the edge of the bed and put her arms around Jess as she sobbed. After a while the crying eased but neither of them moved. Jess felt Sophie preparing to speak.

‘You’re wrong, actually. You did _not_ hurt me, or the children, Jess. I don’t regret marrying Tom, not really. I went into it with my eyes open. I knew he was still in love with you. He didn’t tell me that; he didn’t have to. I thought I could love him enough to compensate, but things don’t work that way.  You are the love of his life.’ She leaned back to look into Jess’ eyes. ‘And nobody can tell me that having James and Nina was a mistake. ‘

Jess shook her head. ‘Of course not. They are enchanting; a credit to you both.’

‘See? No harm, no foul. Nothing to forgive.’

Later that day, as they lay on the lounger watching the sunset, Tom nuzzled Jess’s temple.

‘So, are you going to tell me what you and Sophie talked about earlier?’

‘No.’ She smiled.

‘OK. It was me, wasn’t it?’ He chuckled.

‘Honestly, what an ego!’ She pinched his arm, the most she could manage.

‘Ow!’

‘Shut up. No, we talked about the children and each other. You were barely mentioned.’ She stared at the horizon for a few moments, wondering if she should tell him the content of the conversation. ‘You chose well. She is a very special woman.’

Tom shrugged. He still felt deeply guilty about how he had used Sophie, but the children were such a joy in everyone’s lives. ‘She is; you’re right.’ He kissed Jess softly on the lips, pulled her a little more tightly against him. ‘I have excellent taste in women.’


	3. Tears of All My Life

Dr Ponsson closed the door as quietly as she could, leaving the nurse to tidy things and settle Jess. Tom had been pacing in the hall and froze as their eyes met. The woman shook her head sadly; she had known Jess as her patient for over ten years. She glanced around to check they were alone.

‘I am very sorry, Mr Hiddleston, but I don’t believe it will be long now. The tumours in her lungs seem to be interfering with her breathing. The oxygen will help a little, but…’

Tom nodded. He had known this was coming. Jess had barely woken these past couple of days, and seemed even less present when she was awake. Her morphine dose was slightly higher than it had been, but not enough to explain her absence.

_So it is really happening._

‘Please, take this.’ The doctor was handing him a card. ‘It has my private numbers. Call me at any hour. _N’importe quelle heure, d’accord?_ ’

He nodded again, seemingly struck dumb. He saw the doctor out after she had briefly consulted with the nurse and Anna, who looked as pale as he felt. Jess was dozing when he was able to return to the library, but she greeted him with a smile and sighed as he kissed her cheek softly.

‘Can I get you anything, Mrs Hiddleston?’

‘I’m fine, Mr H.’ She regarded him sleepily. ‘Are you OK?’

He dreaded the question. She had begun to ask it more often, and he had almost decided to stop lying. Now seemed as good a time as any. He shook his head.

‘No I’m not.’ Hot tears spilled out of his eyes and into her hair as she did her best to pull his quivering body against hers.

‘Oh my love, it will be alright. Shhh, shhh.’

‘Will it? How can it be?’ Sobs shuddered through him. He had fought to hold all this in when with her, but now it had begun to come out and he couldn’t stop it. ‘You are leaving me. How can I go on without you? Tell me how to. Please, tell me.’

_There it is. The truth at last_

She reached up and stroked his hair, letting her hand fall slowly down his stubbly cheek and along his jaw. Her fingertips traced his lips as he kissed them lightly, grasping her hand to hold it against his heart.

‘You have to, Tom. For me. And for James and Nina, you know this. They need their Daddy.’

Fresh gouts of tears scalded his face. He nodded. ‘I know, but… It’s just not been enough time. We’ve had so little time, my Jess. Not enough time together. Why? It’s so unfair.’ Another juddering sigh. ‘I can’t bear it, Jess. I just don’t know what I will do without you. I don’t want to do _anything_ without you.’

‘Shhh, my love. Shhh…’ She felt herself falling into a darkness she could no longer fightagainst. ‘Please don’t leave me, darling. Stay here. Hold me for a bit longer, Tom…’

 

***********

 

Tom looked up from the itinerary on the table. ‘There is something missing from this.’

Jess raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh really?’ She thought she had been pretty thorough. There were a few places she wanted to visit that had become no-go areas in recent years, such as Syria, but otherwise she thought she had it covered. She’d even included Disneyworld with the children – something she and Chris had never been able to afford when theirs were little. As bucket lists go, she thought it was pretty comprehensive.

‘Yes.’

He stood up and turned towards her. She was standing silhouetted against the living room window.

‘Our wedding.’

Tom produced a box from his jeans pocket, opening it to show her. It was a beautiful pearl and sapphire ring, obviously not brand-new. He went down on one knee. ‘Will you marry me, Doc?’

Jess smiled. Marriage was another of her ‘been there, done that’ areas. But she had suspected that he would want to make it ‘official’, especially now.

‘That’s a very beautiful ring, Tom,’ she said, stalling for time.

‘It was my grandmother’s; her engagement ring. Mum said to me a long time ago that I should give it to the love of my life, when the time came.’ He looked up at her from his kneeling position. ‘I think the time has come.’ He paused, eyebrows raised.

‘Well, if I get THAT kind of jewelry,’ she said coyly. But looking down she was immediately transfixed by him; his face, his eyes, his expression. She saw hope in him, which broke her heart, but she also saw the deepest love she would ever live to experience.

‘I love you, Thomas William Hiddleston.Yes, I will marry you.’

Tom put his career on hold, dropping out of all his contracted work and refusing to sign up for anything new indefinitely. The on-going project he cared the most about, the movie which had brought them together – _Resistance –_ was nearing completion in post-production after various delays, not the least of which had been caused by his busy schedule. The development stages had taken two years longer than expected, and then the entire thing was nearly shelved. It was only when Tom – at the time, wandering lost in the desert of their time apart - intervened again, offering his own money to kick-start it, that filming finally got underway. And now it was likely that Jess would not live to see it reach the big screen.

_Another cruelty to add to the pile._

The next few months were, ironically, the most blissful in Jess’ life. She and Tom travelled the globe, flying first-class, staying in the most luxurious hotels and visiting nearly all of the museums, galleries and theatres that she had dreamed about. Dining at the most exotic places, discovering new tastes, drinking the most exquisite wines.The children came on some trips; Anna, Sally and their other halves on others. But mostly it was just Tom and Jess, alone together, having the experiences, consuming one another.

The truth was Jess wanted to store up some memories for Tom, ones he could bring out on dark nights and revisit. Happy times in beautiful and interesting places that would offer him some comfort. She could not save him from the pain of her dying. She could not avoid leaving him again. But she could do this for him.

And she could marry him.

It was hard to find a window in the schedule even for the modest affair they desired. But they managed to tuck it into the list, after Florida, Patagonia and Rome, but ahead of the trips to Iceland and Russia which were destined to be postponed permanently. Even before they had completed half of the planned journeys, Jess had become unable to keep food down and needed a duodenal stent to relieve the blockage. After that she could only manage puréed or liquid foods, and worse news followed her brief stay in hospital: there were growths in both of her lungs.

In the end, marrying the man she adored became the perfect culmination of her bucket list.

The room was small, intimate; crowded. The carpets were thick and the scent of flowers all-pervasive. The silk of Jess’ dress whispered as she moved in her chair, its ivory shimmering to flatter the pale hue of her skin.She looked beautiful. Her makeup was exquisitely done by a makeup artist who worked with Tom over the years. She felt happy and deeply moved by seeing friends and family there. Anna, Sally, even their father. Everyone she loved.

Tom looked amazing, breathtaking to her eyes. His suit was bespoke. He had insisted that she select the pattern and style for him. He asked the tailor to come to their home for fittings, in between trips, when Jess was up to it.Now he felt lost as he sat at the front of the room, as if he was hovering there, not really in touch with it. He was consumed with a dizzying mixture of joy, grief and anger.

_This is not the wedding I had once planned for us_

The atmosphere was unlike any other marriage ceremony any of their guests had attended.

Formal proceedings over, the newlyweds held hands before the groom helped his wife to stand and they faced one another. For Jess it was an out of body experience; only Tom kept her tethered to the Earth. The card she held shook almost imperceptibly. She focused on the task in hand, repeating the mantras in her head.

_Remember the words, don’t just read them_

_Don’t cry before you finish_

_Look at Tom_

She began to recite.

****_How do I love thee? Let me count the ways._  
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height   
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight   
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.   
I love thee to the level of every day's   
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.   
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;   
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. 

She looked up from the card to see his eyes. His jaw was set hard, and she could tell he was at the limit of his self-control. She smiled encouragingly at him and a tear overflowed and ran down his cheek as he managed a weak response in kind. Gathering herself, she continued.

****_I love thee with a passion put to use_  
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.   
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose   
With my lost saints, -- I love thee with the breath,   
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,   
I shall but love thee better after death

People cry at weddings every day, but rarely does every single person cry, including the registrar.

Tom was trembling visibly. He glanced to his left to see his parents and sisters. It did not calm him. The room was filled with stifled sobs and sniffing. Struggling to regain control he called on all his experience as a performer. After what seemed to him like hours, he was composed enough to reach into his pocket for the paper. He did not trust his usual good memory on this day.

‘My Jess, I have two things to read you. The first is very short.’

For a long moment he gazed at his new wife, awestruck once again. She was more beautiful than ever. She appeared calm, but her eyes were glistening. He cleared his throat.

‘On Taking a Wife, by Thomas Moore:

****_Come, come," said Tom's father, "at your time of life,_  
There's no longer excuse for thus playing the rake--  
It is time you should think, boy, of taking a wife."  
"Why, so it is father--whose wife shall I take?"’

There was a ripple of relieved laughter, among it Tom’s father’s distinctive chuckling. The joke had succeeded in breaking the tension as he had hoped. Taking a deep, calming breath, he looked at Jess and took her hands in his. For this he needed neither paper nor conscious memory: only Mark Twain’s words and the woman he adored; the love of his life.

****_‘I cannot promise you a life of sunshine;_  
I cannot promise you riches, wealth or gold;  
I cannot promise you an easy pathway  
That leads away from change or growing old.

****_But I can promise all my heart’s devotion;_  
A smile to chase away your tears of sorrow.  
A love that’s true and ever growing;  
A hand to hold in yours through each tomorrow _.’_

_****************_

 

‘Tom?’ Her voice was a croaky whisper now.

‘Yes, my love?’

‘Take me outside, please.’

Tom glanced at Anna, who was sitting on the chair, her hands rubbing over her swollen belly. She nodded, shrugging. _What could be the harm now?_

‘Of course, my darling.’

He gathered her into his arms and carried her through the house, towards the doors that opened onto the terrace. Her head rested on his neck, and she loved the way his stubble rasped the skin of her forehead. She was wonderfully aware of him: the strength of his arms supporting her; his fragrance; the steady beat of his heart against her side.

As he passed his mother sitting at the table with a book their eyes met; he could gauge the level of pain in his by her reaction. Pete opened the door for him and he walked down the steps and into the fading evening sun. Stooping carefully he laid the wasted body of his beloved wife on the lounger and stretched out next to her, pulling her against him as he covered them both with the quilted cover Diana had brought over.

She snuggled against his neck, breathing as deeply as her damaged lungs would allow. ‘Thank you, my darling Tom.’

They stayed like that for a while: him listening to her breathing, her inhaling him, feeling him.

‘Do you remember when you first fell in love with me?’

He smiled. ‘Oh yes. It was the first time I read _A French History for Francophobes_. There was a sentence about the British perception of the French…I don’t remember what you said, exactly… something about _sweet enemies_? But I recall thinking ‘Now _there’s_ a _mind_ I’d like to fuck.’

Jess let out a wheezy chuckle. ‘Sounds more like lust than love.’

‘Ah, but that’s the point. I loved you then. I loved you more when I read the other books, and then when I saw you… I was a goner.’

He kissed the top of her head.

‘So, come on, your turn.’

She raised her eyes enough to meet his gaze before they drifted shut again. ‘When you bought me dinner at that trattoria… no, earlier…when we sat on your jacket… in the park… and your arse was right next to mine… no, before that… When you kissed my hand.’ She sighed at the memory of the electric shock she had experienced when they first touched.

_Eight years next week. Only eight years, and we wasted three of those._

They were quiet for a long time. Talking exhausted her. She dozed, he watched the swallows and martins swooping and dancing against the darkening sky. The evening drifted on. Anna and Diana brought them tea and water from time to time. The birds retired to bed, allowing the night shift of tiny bats to take over.

Tom watched the sun sinking. It was past nine o’clock, but time had begun to stretch and squeeze these past couple of weeks. He would be awake when she was, whatever the hour. He felt her stirring again, setting against him even closer. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling. He wove his fingers into hers, kissed the rings he had put on her left hand. He felt every point of contact between them, aware of her heart and lungs as they fought to keep going.

‘Jess, my darling Jess.’

‘Hmmm?’ The effort to speak seemed to wrack her whole body; her voice was barely there.

‘I love you so much, My Jess. Only you. Only you…’

He watched as the last slivers of the sun dropped away into the ground. He squeezed her just a little tighter against his body.

‘You can go if you need to. I’ll be OK.’

 

 

# Epilogue

 

**_Suffolk, August_ **

_My Jess_

I lied. I’m so sorry. But I’m not OK

_***************_

**_Suffolk, September_ **

I should tell you - Anna’s little girl. They called her Jessica Mary.

Jessie

She has your eyes, my darling. Your beautiful, kind, deep eyes, my Jess. I love you. I miss you. Why are you not here? Why?

Jimbo adores her. He breaks my heart when he calls her ‘Mini-Jess’ 

Nina tried to poke her eye out. But failed. She’s a monster. I love them all.

I wish so badly you could see your granddaughter. Hold her in your arms.

Poor Anna. I know it’s hard for her to be happy without you. She needs her mum too.

Poor me. I’m so tired of having to be brave, this is not the life I want.

_T_

_***********************_

**_Suffolk, Late September_ **

It’s the premiere of our film on Wednesday. I really – _really_ don’t want to go, but I know you’d want me to, so I will. Mum and Anna and Sally are coming with me.

It’s too hard, Jess. It’s going to be too hard.

_T_

**************

**_Suffolk, November_ **

_My darling_

Still at Mum’s. Can’t seem to stir myself to leave again.

I miss you. How can I go on without you? Tell me what to do, please.

I don’t know what to do.

Please, tell me what to do, Jess

_T_

_****************_

**_London, January_ **

_My darling_

We had a big party, sort of for your birthday. Sally’s idea, cooked up with Mum and Emma. The three witches.

10 people. Ridiculous. Big for me these days. Biggest crowd I’ve been in for ages. All I could see was the person who wasn’t there.

Sally keeps telling me off. Saying you’d be angry. She’s right, I know. It does not seem to make a difference.

So please, help me. People come to see me, HH have offers for me, but every time I think of working, of acting. Of pretending…

Time keeps passing, the world keeps on turning… Kids are growing. They miss you.

I miss you, my Jess

Why are you not here? Tell me what to do

_Your Tom_

_*****************_

**_London, August_ **

_My Jess_

I saw some people last week and today I signed. You know all of this already, but I want to tell you. So, I’m going back to work. I am fairly certain this is a mistake, but I know it’s one I should make. Just a small project, a radio serial. Makes no sense whatsoever.

Yes, Jess, I will do it, I will. I know

I need to.

You’d better listen to it once it airs.

And YES, I joined that _Cruse_ group. All young people, some younger than me.

The world is a lot crueller than I knew, Jess. So much pain and loss

James misses you. He asked me about you on Sunday: asked if I missed you. We went to you-know-where and he said on the way out that it wasn’t the same without you there, tutting.

He has a teacher he says is like you. When I asked what he meant he said ‘She is pretty and kind and she laughs at me. She likes me.’ Kids…

_T x_

*********************

**_L.A., October_ **

_My darling_

Sally is pregnant, my Jess! She told me just now. They have known for a while but she didn’t know how to tell me, she said. So, _Granny_ , here comes another one. I know you know, but I had to tell you.

I could not keep going to the _Cruse_ meetings, don’t be cross love, you know me, plus now I am traveling a bit. I just could not continue. I made some friends there, people I could stay in touch with. They help. 

Why are you not here my love? This is so hard. So bloody unfair.

_T xxxxxx_

 

***************

****

**_London, July_ **

_My darling Jess_

Two years already.

Last week I realised I didn’t lie to you. I think I will be OK.

One day.

_T x_

**_London, July_ **

It is ten years this morning since I first looked into your lovely eyes, touched your silky skin. Ten years tonight since I kissed that sexy mouth for the first time. Do you remember the room? I can describe it in detail.

 

Only ten years.

Why are you not here? I miss you so much.

I will walk in Hyde Park this afternoon. Come with me.

 

_T xx_

 

********************

 

**_London, November_ **

_My darling Jess_

Somehow, life is going on, even for me.

The children keep growing up relentlessly. They do that, whether you want them to or not.

Anna and Pete and Jessie are well. Jessie is growing fast – looks like her mother at that age, so that means she is the image of you.

Sally and Pietro had a boy in February, the day after my birthday. That was a problem, because he was six weeks early, and spent a month in the IT unit. He gave us all a few frights but he’s home with his parents and doing well.

They named him Davide Enrico.

I wish you could have held your grandchildren in your arms, my Jess. I wish they could have known you.

I wish that every day.

As for mine, well James is seven – can you believe it? He is a delight - the apple of my mother’s eye. He still plays the piano, and his teacher thinks he might have some real talent for it. He likes school, which is good, and shows more aptitude for maths and science than his father. I guess it skipped a generation…

I wish you could see him. I wish he could talk to you.

He mentions you often. You will be remembered, my darling, long after I’ve gone.

As for Nina, well, she isa monster. Sophie assures me she will grow out of it, but MY GOD, she is a trial. James spoiled us. She starts school after Christmas – can you believe it? Already? She loves kindergarten, and she has plenty of little friends, so I am hoping she will settle down.

She remembers you too, Jess. There are pictures of you everywhere here, and we talk about you when they visit – all the time. She even has some recollection of visiting us at St Pierre. That was special, wasn’t it?

I miss you. I need you, my dearest love. My only one.

_T x_

_******************_

****

**_London, February_ **

_My dearest one, my Jess_

Today has been the third birthday I have had without you. I ate a quiet meal with Pippa tonight, at a nice Chinese place near her house. I know you know, but I had to tell you. She has become a good friend from that _Cruse_ group you made me join. We can talk freely to each other, she understands.

I miss you.

Eight years was not enough, it will never be enough. I wasted three years not contacting you. I was stupid and immature. Then you wasted another three by leaving, pushing me away.

So I suppose, finally, you could say we are even.

I miss you. Oh god, how I miss you, my Jess.

 

_Your Tom_

_******************_

**_Budapest, July_ **

_My love. My Jess_

I miss you so very much.

I have some things to tell you.

First, your grandchildren. There is another one on the way, yes, Jessie will soon have a rival. They will have all they need to go to university or whatever they choose. I have been putting the profit-share I get from _Resistance_ into a special trust, just for them. I thought you would like that: our joint effort.

Yes, so far it has been a big success. People love it. I knew they would. They asked me to be in a special documentary about you, for the extras, you know. I kept saying no, but they kept asking. They had some footage from the time of filming, but that was before… So I gave in, but only on the proviso that they gave a big donation to research into pancreatic cancer. I tell you, my Jess, I have had more fan mail about that doc than anything else I have ever done. _More than for Loki._

People loved you. More people love you now than ever.

The second thing I need to tell you is harder. But I think you will understand. I know you know, but I STILL have to tell you.

I have decided to ask Pippa out on a proper date. I think she will come.

It won’t be the same as you and me, of course. How could it be? But I know now that I need to be close to someone, Jess. I need a connection. Not just the sex, but the touching. The warmth. And you know I can’t just, well, fuck. Not now, not ever, actually, not anymore. Pip and I, well, I think we know and trust each other.

You know that I will always love you, Jess. It was always, will always be you. Only you.

Only you, my Jess.

_T_

 

 

****_How do I love thee? Let me count the ways._  
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height   
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight   
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.   
I love thee to the level of every day's   
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.   
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;   
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.   
I love with a passion put to use   
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.   
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose   
With my lost saints, -- I love thee with the breath,   
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,   
I shall but love thee better after death. 

_[Elizabeth Barrett Browning](http://www.poemhunter.com/elizabeth-barrett-browning/poems/) _


End file.
